


After the Broadcast

by Maxojir



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24643417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxojir/pseuds/Maxojir
Summary: A few days after Bellwether is arrested. Zootopia's 2 prime-time news anchors at ZNN, sitting down for a simple cafe meal after the nightly broadcast has ended. Dealing with their own feelings and stress over the lingering tensions in city from the past few months, and now the fallout from Bellwether's arrest and the entire plot being exposed. Is / will be connected to my larger over-arching Nick & Judy story that will begin going up eventually.
Relationships: Fabienne Growley/Peter Moosebridge
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Only because it has childhood memories & meaning to me, so I care about the specifics. When referring to the camo outfits the wolves are wearing, I'm referring to the old BDU military camo from the 90s, such as seen here - https://qph.fs.quoracdn.net/main-qimg-98fe0299c19487ac2b56284964fb3ddf.webp  
> and here - https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0026/8464/9531/products/bdu-pants-woodland_1200x1440.jpg?v=1529007950

Both the moose and the snow leopard waited a few additional seconds until the red lights on the studio cameras blinked off, and the cameras themselves were tilted down for the usual post-broadcast inspection. Once they were clear, Peter re-stacked and straightened his papers before sliding them into the sleeve of half-binder they were initially brought to them in at the start of each session. He turned to Fabienne as soon as he was done, only to find her still sorting hers, very neatly manipulating them to be as straight and in line as possible, even running a claw across the top edge of the stack to gently tap down any unevenness. She was borderline OCD, at least in terms of the word’s common use, but . . . over the years it’d become just another trait he’d grown to love about her.

Fabienne finally slipped her perfected arrangement of news alert and topic papers into her half-binder’s sleeve, only to then find her co-anchor staring at her. An amused smile placed itself upon her face, just like every other time.

“You can blink now, Peter.” She said.

The moose looked rather silly when he pretended to shake his head about like a mammal that had been suddenly awoken after lightly dozing off.

“Sorry,” he said, “can’t help it sometimes.”

The amusement in her smile switched to warmth as she replied. 

“I know.” She said, before sliding open the narrow desk drawer underneath her side of the anchor station to retrieve something.

Her action spurred Peter to do the very same thing, granted it being his own item and located in the slider beneath his side of the desk. Both items were essentially the same however, in effect anyway. They each had their own, but he might well have forgotten his if he hadn’t seen her retrieving hers. It was more often than not the case that she kept his memory and his sense of organization in check. And he couldn’t be more grateful for it.

“Did you want to get a nice meal somewhere?” Peter asked. 

He knew the likely answer, after what happened last week, but he also knew how much she loved fine dining. Even though it had nothing to do with food, as she had admitted to him long ago, it was solely because she enjoyed getting to feel fancy for a short while.

The snow leopard’s face fell at the suggestion, and her eyelids drooped a little. 

She sighed just as she spoke. “Peter I do want to, but I can’t take getting berated in public again.”

Peter’s face fell its own bit too, but he managed to keep a smile on his for her sake. 

Some of the staff members were working nearby, plenty actually; checking over the cameras and switching out their batteries, setting up ladders to lower or raise the lighting set based whoever would be at the desk doing the overnight news crawl, sweeping the floor, wheeling a cart of equipment across the floor and so on. Each of those who were near enough to hear, most of whom were themselves prey, visibly looked up or over to the two of them, and to Fabienne specifically with some degree of regret and guilt.

Taking notice of it gave Peter one idea, brought but to mind by the reality of their coworkers’ sympathy had reminded him of.

“What about the café down on the tenth floor?” He suggested. “I know it’s just workfood we eat every day but we never actually sit down and eat there. It’s just as quiet by this time as the places you like . . .” he looked away and around at the station crew going about their jobs, just long enough to draw her to do the same, before he turned back to her, “and you know nothing like that’s gonna happen here.” 

Fabienne looked back at him, and the caring sincerity in his moose face. It took a few seconds, but a renewed smile came to her face in the end.

“Don’t ever tell lies on the air, Peter.” She said. “You’re way too convincing of a mammal.”

And with that, Peter’s soft smile turned to one of delight.

“Let’s go.” She agreed, and they both rose from their anchor seats and left for the elevator.

-

The ZNN station café, or more of a cafeteria, was a quaint place. It wasn’t too big, or too small, somewhere between a quarter to a third the size of an average food court. Just big enough to accommodate the larger number of their workers during the daytime, but not enough to have been a waste of space. Being on the tenth floor, or about mid-level of the ZNN building, it was just high up enough to be above all of the surrounding buildings, giving its windows an adequate view of the city.

At this time of night, usually, it was also empty. Such was the case tonight, save for the young deer working the counter. It was quiet as well, quiet but not entirely silent. Complete silence was kept at bay by the noise of the refrigeration units running behind the counter, and the ever gentle, breezy hum of air blowing through the central ventilation system. 

Peter and Fabienne sat together enjoying it all, each enjoying their own pick from the café’s sandwiches as well as occasionally taking straw sips from a large, shared milkshake.

“I’m sure it has to all blow over soon.” Peter was trying to assure her. “I mean the full brunt of what was actually going on should start sinking in after a few more days.”

Fabienne reached out to pull the milkshake over to her side, her wedding ring clinking against the cup as she grabbed ahold of it.

“I wouldn’t be so sure until it actually happens.” She said, face remaining glum.

Peter’s mildly optimistic smile was beginning to slip. He desperately wanted to reassure her, and to whatever extent he could, cheer her up. He turned his head to look out the floor-to-ceiling window next to them. His eyes shifted back and forth between focusing on the nighttime scenery of the city outside, and their own reflections on the inside. It had been several days since Bellwether’s arrest and the revelation of the entire scheme, but tension and animosity, along with even a few anti-predatory rallies were still lingering around. 

His eyes glanced at the reflection of his own wedding ring before he turned his to face her again.

“We can wait however long you want,” he told her, “until you’re comfortable again. You know here is ok for now though. Nothing like last week will happen here.”

“I know.” Fabienne said, “I am thankful nobody here is like that. I kind of feel bad for being surprised by it. Everyone here is so . . . mammal.”

“We’re all here.” Peter said. “We all work together every day. Same mammals, same coworkers, since it’s not like that many jobs here have a high turnover rate. I think it’s just that when you’re working together with others, after so long you just get to know everyone so well. When they start getting called certain things and demammalized like this you just can’t see any of it the way it’s being shouted at you, because you know who they are already. The who. It’s a lot harder to care about the what about somebody when you actually know the who.”

Fabienne smiled softly, milkshake straw still protruding from her mouth.

“You should try doing speaking events and motivationals sometime.” She said, relinquishing their shared drink.

The moose giggled, leading the snow leopard’s smile to grow at least slightly larger.

She spoke again just as his giggles finished. “I’m not sure how to put words to it. You’re probably right, and it’s probably not how they think. But, it kind of feels like a lot of mammals are stuck in some kind of empty space. Constantly hearing mammals talking about how they want me to know they see me as equal only makes it feel like they don’t really. I always wondered if others are actual level and . . . well, mammal, in anyone’s mind. I’m worried they really just view others as _something else _that they’re just forcing themselves to assign equal value to afterwards.” Her gaze lingered out the window at the city, before she shut her eyes and turned back to her husband. “I always had more faith in mammals who didn’t act any different one way or the other . . . like you.” She opened her eyes again to smile at him.__

__He had to return the soft, sweet smile, he could never resist it, not from her face._ _

__“I don’t think anyone here with us is acting any differently than they would for any other worried friend.” Peter said. “Even for our less-permanent employees, I doubt they care who is what.”_ _

__Fabienne twisted her head to look over her shoulder and the happy deer working behind the café counter._ _

__“Yeah.” She couldn’t do anything other than agree, at the sight of the happy barista who clearly had no care in the world that there was a large predator, let alone an interspecies couple a mere few meters away from her. “Even everyone here who’s not part of the broadcast team seems to share you same attitude.”_ _

__The young deer, a doe who couldn’t have even been past twenty, was enjoying some gaming stream on her phone. She looked up suddenly when she took notice of the two news anchors’ eyes on her, and immediately removed her earbuds before speaking._ _

__“Did you two need me to get you anything else?” She asked, genuine worry carrying in her voice that might not have heard a request they had made._ _

__“Oh no,” Fabienne answered, “it’s nothing, don’t worry.”_ _

__“Ok!” The young doe said, returning her earbuds to her ears, though deciding only leave in one as she resumed her viewership of whatever she was happily occupying her slower hours with._ _

__Fabienne turned her head back to Peter, with a more uplifted face now._ _

__“You’re probably right,” she said, “even about everyone else out there. But seeing all the mammals who think those vile things gathered together in those huge groups,” she paused to realign her gaze right into his eyes, “I try to think they’re only a tiny part of the whole city around us, but the doubting part of me won’t let me get away with thinking that.”_ _

__Peter reached his hoofhand across the small table and placed it gently atop his wife’s paw._ _

__“I know.” He said. “Seeing that’s always gonna make it feel like there’s way more of them than there actually are.”_ _

__Fabienne turned her paw over to grasp Peters’, before looking away out the windows at the nighttime city sprawling across their view._ _

__“Please be right, Peter.” She spoke, still staring away._ _

__The moose returned the grasp and held her paw for the moment._ _

__“I’ll try me best.” He promised._ _

__She turned back to him, with what might have been the most content smile he’d seen from her in while._ _

__“Let’s go home.” He said._ _

__They both deposited their sandwich wrappers and napkins in the garbage and returned the large milkshake cup to the counter. The young doe working that night happily took it and went right to placing it in the industrial washer._ _

__The two of them began leaving the news station café, as they did passing by one of their studio technicians on his way to grab a departing coffee._ _

__“You two gonna be ok?” The porcupine asked, nothing but genuine concern emanating out from him as he did._ _

__“We’ll be fine, Daniel, thankyou.” Fabienne answered._ _

__“Hey.” One of their broadcast editors, a camel, was walking over from the elevator. “I don’t know whetha not you do, but if you like Cammellian food, you’d be ok in my uncles’ restaurant in Sahara Square. He don’t allow none’a that stuff what happened to you, and anybody who goes there knows it, I promise.”_ _

__“Hm, maybe we will sometime.” Peter said, looking over to his wife._ _

__“Yes, thankyou Adrian.” Fabienne agreed._ _

__Adrian the camel proceeded to nod, wave and walk past them, as they went on towards the elevator themselves._ _

__“You have a lot’a our numbers.” He called back to them to say a final word. “If anything else happens out there again, remember you call as many of us as you want and we’ll hurry to show up for ya.”_ _

__They both nodded in response, and waved goodbye as the elevator doors closed._ _

__-_ _

__The moose anchor exited the elevator beside his snow leopard wife._ _

__Their marriage wasn’t necessarily a secret, or at least it wasn’t at the station. They’d intentionally kept it quiet when they got married years ago, and thankfully everyone who worked at the station was more than willing to respect their wishes. And in fact, the director had made sure it was kept as publicly quiet as possible. Being the largest news agency in the citystate region did grant that ability to choose whether something ended up _“making the rounds” _or not. Of course, the collection of mammals who knew grew over time, mostly in the form of restaurant staff. But it was a slow growth, as they wanted.___ _

____To their surprise over the course of time, no one had ever said anything to them, neither about who they were, nor what they were. Everyone outside the station who’d gradually found out had either been unphased or been the customary happy and congratulative for their having gotten married. Until these last couple months, ever since the first nighthowler fallout. And last week, in that restaurant . . . having that mammal trying to _“de-convert” _him from his love for his wife, and shouting about how they were violating the natural order.___ _ _ _

______The restaurant owner had thrown the male antelope out, and promised them he was banned from ever returning, but the emotional damage to Fabienne was already done. They had left with her in silent tears, and the poor owner even looking as if her were going to pull his own fur out in distress. And they knew all too well given their profession, that it hadn’t been the only such incident in the city. Up until that point, since the first nighthowler fallout, they had mostly just dealt with newly suspicious stares and dirty looks. But that night . . . that had been his wife’s breaking point, and it would likely be a while before she felt comfortable going out anywhere again, even if the full revelation of the Bellwether conspiracy quelled the hostilities faster than they were expecting._ _ _ _ _ _

______They walked up to the ZNN building’s main entrance and exit. It was a vestibule entryway, or as the two of them knew them in Tundra Town where they lived, arctic entryways. In more normal times it would have been empty, but for these recent weeks it had been occupied. Inside, facing the outer doors, standing at attention with their front paws behind their backs, and with the occasional shifting about, were two wolves. They were security from a newer, smaller private firm. Previously ZNN had always contracted with Pack Shield for whatever occasional security needs they had, or preferably had asked the ZPD for an officer security detail when they could permit it. But the ZPD wasn’t always free to hand out officers, especially not now in these recent weeks. And, the company had been the one securing the Cliffside Assylum and had collapsed and dissolved after evidence turned up that their top staff were aware of Lionheart falsely imprisoning animals there. After that, anyone who used or needed security contractors in the city had been left to scramble and pick from the assortment of smaller security firms available._ _ _ _ _ _

______The station, initially for no other reason than familiarity as they were part of the same contracting group that loaned them pilots to fly their news helicopters, had ended up with FAM; Final Alliance Militarized Security. The latter part of their name purely a reference to their dress choice, as they wore multi-green, blotchy woodland camo uniforms, like those of the old militaries back when real militaries were still around. They weren’t only wolves, like most security firms in the city were. They also had rams, reindeer, lynxes, a leopard, and even otters. The two assigned to the ZNN building tonight were wolves though, donned in their camo but with their shirts loosely fitting, as most wolves usually preferred. One of the two was actually female, which was actually somewhat unusual, at least amongst other security firms._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Good evening.” The female wolf greeted them kindly, opening the inner door while her partner went to open the outer one._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Thankyou.” Fabienne said, walking past._ _ _ _ _ _

______Peter nodded his head in acknowledgement as he followed._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Did you want an escort to your car?” The female wolf asked as they were exiting the outer door._ _ _ _ _ _

______Surprised by the offer, both Fabienne and Peter turned to each other for a second before they both looked back and shook their heads._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No, thankyou though.” Fabienne answered. “We should be fine.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Remain safe.” The female wolf wished to them, with clear sincerity._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Howl if anything happens.” The male wolf spoke up. He sounded sincere himself, just with a bit of foundation lacking in his voice. It gave them both the impression he was likely a shy mammal despite the job and the uniform._ _ _ _ _ _

______Peter smiled back. “I’ll try my best.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______And as Peter and his wife departed, the two private guards returned to loosely standing at attention behind them. They walked quietly out to their car, though when they reached it she couldn’t keep herself from the hilarious concept that had been suggested to them._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Are you sure nothing’s wrong out here?” She asked, turning to her husband. “I’d love to hear your attempt at a howl.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The same amused smile now shared itself between them at the very idea of a moose “howling”._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’d rather not.” He said, after a brief chuckle._ _ _ _ _ _

______After which, Peter got into the driver’s seat, and her into the passenger’s, and they drove home to spend the night in peace._ _ _ _ _ _  



	2. Warmer Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do please read the first chapter/part first.  
> I actually have ended up putting more "writing effort" into these than my main Nick & Judy story, and I especially find myself really trying to be more atmospheric with this.  
> This story and that one ARE connected, as happening roughly parallel to each other over the course of time, and the same characters eventually appear in each.  
> As stated over in the Nick x Judy story, characters from elsewhere will begin making cameos/taking their form in their zootopian lives. The characters from other places I choose to bring in from non-zootopia things are not the usual ones, however.  
> But, since no one noticed prior, we'll see who picks up what this time.

Low, rolling mounds of snow drifted by outside the windows of a larger car as it drove through the outskirts of Tundra Town, heading for one of the tunnels through the Climate Wall. Looking out at the passing waves of snow, gazing past her faint reflection in the passenger side window, was a lovely snow leopard. Fabienne Growley, _“Fabi”_ to many ZNN viewers, sat more than comfortably in a seat larger than she required. She watched the changing colours of the passing snow, enjoying its fading into ever paler and paler shades of blue in the vanishing light of the sunken sun. It had already made the initial transition from its natural white into dusk-time blue over the course of their initial drive out to the outskirts from their home and was now rushing through the dying blues, racing towards its inevitable nighttime grey. The approaching shadow of the massive Climate Wall ultimately was the reason for the accelerated change of snow colour, but the reason didn’t matter. Fabienne always loved to watch it take place.

The fancily-dressed news anchor always got to watch the changing colours of snow, or the passing night lights of the downtown city core in the distance, or anything else she desired to because the passenger seat was always hers. She was able to drive, but she couldn’t stand it. Fabi was a measure on the anxious side when any level of calm and control began lessening, whenever things entered a far more interactive and unpredictable state. Driving, or rather being the one to drive was one of the worse forms of such an environment. In the opposite end, it was the same sentiment that played a part in allowing her to enjoy her job so much; returning to the same broadcast desk every weekday amongst the same coworkers, with her neat and tidy stack of topic papers and Peter beside her. Peter, who was driving now.

Her sweet moose of a husband. He was too caring and accommodating with her, even sometimes _“obnoxiously compassionate”_ as she said. Peter was more than happy to drive wherever either or both of them needed to go. And there he sat in the driver’s seat that day, like always, content smile and all. Sometimes she was foolish enough to tell him he did too much, but of course he would only then insist he actually did little. Afterall, she wouldn’t even let him touch anything even remotely requiring or bearing relation to organization and cleanliness. The few times he’d even tried simply folding their clothes for her during their early days together, she had come and redone the entire lot of work as the folds and creases fell short of what she was willingly to allow herself to accept. And, by proxy _herself_ really meant the both of them. But, no matter how regretfully Fabi tended to look back on those memories sometimes, coming into things after the fact and insisting the job her husband had done was inadequate . . . Peter was only ever filled with fond laughter every time those stories were brought up.

Fabienne noticed she’d developed a smile once they entered the tunnel and her reflection was the only view the window offered. She did try to lower the ends of her mouth back down, but they just wouldn’t go all the way.

Peter reached over to the center panel at the base of the dashboard, pressing the button to activate the car’s air conditioning. Air immediately began breezing out of the vents in front of them both, though it was actually warmer air than what was already inside the car. Both cold-climate mammals, they rarely needed to use the car’s heating in their home district, save for the rare occasion they were trapped in a prolonged traffic jam. The cooling system they would need, however, especially where they were going.

Their car emerged from the tunnel on the other side of the Climate Wall, in Sahara Square. They were on their way to a camellian restaurant, the same one Adrian had mentioned being owned by his uncle. After letting another week pass since the revelation of Bellwether’s plot, Fabienne had finally decided she was willing to resume dining out again.

“Did you ever get to see the menu?” Peter asked, as they drove into the artificial desert.

Her husband’s voice brought her back out from inside her own mind. She turned her head over in his direction, finding him keeping his own head straight, but still seeing his heightened smile and a lifting eyebrow on the side she could see. 

Well . . . he was certainly concealing something.

“No,” she answered, looking down to her phone as she pulled it out, “I didn’t get to.” Her claws tapped across the screen to take her to restaurant’s website. “It’s a camellian place, so it should be every type of pasta ever conceived.”

“It is.” Peter said, the gentle curve of his smile growing just a little bit further. “But with their spaghetti, they offer red-replica meatballs.” 

Her gaze instantly leapt away from her phone over to her husband again, with her only managing to speak after her mouth had begun to slip open. “The salmon-based ones?”

“With mountain quail and fig mix.” Peter completed the list of primary ingredients, while the height of his smile finished rising to full.

Fabienne’s ears slipped down from their normal angle, and her eyes lifted themselves wide open. “Peter . . .” She shut her eyes for a second, turning away to face forward again. “I want to hug you but you’re driving.”

“We’ll be there soon.” Peter promised her.

She now leaned back into the seat, resting one paw atop the other on her lap. It was rare for a pasta place to offer any kind of meatballs. Even when they did, it was almost always just the same usual cricket-based amalgamation as anywhere else. Sometimes a place would offer a fish option also if a predator were lucky, but red-replica was a special item. It was a very specific combination of things processed together into something meant to replicate the taste of actual red meat. Despite predators ceasing to eat prey mammals thousands of years ago when they began to form civilizations together, and no predator today having ever actually eaten any meat other than fish or birds, predators still had an innate instinct for the red meat taste. For a non-predator run restaurant to even offer it was something she would’ve called impossible had it not been Peter who just said it to her. And Peter . . . for any prey animal to be happy because of predator they knew being able to enjoy any particular kind of meat, that was just as much so.

***

They pulled into the small parking lot of the restaurant bearing their coworker’s family name. It was outside of the denser core area of Sahara Square, so it wasn’t surrounded by other, taller buildings. Those around it in fact had nice, reasonable spacing between them. It allowed, at least while outside, a decent nighttime view. In one direction were the lights of the central cluster of larger buildings of the district, in another were the much more numerous and higher-reaching city lights of downtown Zootopia’s skyscrapers, and in yet another were the more peaceful, dim red glows of the massive heating units along the moonlit Climate Wall. It all felt so soothing to the eyes, as Fabienne gazed around. Such a feeling of contentment came over her, seeing the different sights from the different angles across the city-state in which they lived.

Zootopia was home.

She had stepped out first, after Peter pulled into a front parking space. The sudden wave of heat had been more than discomforting, but she had let it slip away for a second when her mind focused itself on the lettering painted onto the pavement in the neighboring front spaces.

_“Cold-Climate Mammal Parking.”_ It read.

The labeling made her eyes look to the front of each space, including their own. Surely enough, at the front of each was a short outlet pole standing up from the ground. They were special provisions sometimes offered for cold-climate mammals so they could plug in their cars and thus have their air conditioning powered and running the entire time without having to leaving the engine on or deplete the battery.

Well, her face had to soften. Of course Adrian’s family would be the kind to offer every possible convenience for every mammal, even being just a single, small-business restaurant.

Peter plugged the car in and then reached back inside to shut the engine off while holding down the necessary button to make sure the AC still remained on.

Fabienne walked around the front of the car to his side and waited for him to re-emerge again. She waited until he had shut the door and turned to face her, and then she wrapped her paws around him in a hug, just as she’d said she would. She felt his own hoofed arms wrap back around her within a second afterward, and the bottom of his sizeable moose jaw tucking over the top of her head.

“You’re too sweet of a moose, Peter.” She said while they still held each other.

“I have to match the world’s most warm-hearted snow leopard.” He responded right as they let go.

Fabienne sighed at the words, letting her head dip. “Just as presumptuous as you’ve always been.” She said when she lifted her head back up.

Peter’s natural, gentle smile grew by a margin as he answered again. “Presuming the truth has never been a bad thing.” 

Fabienne’s ears slipped a little, and her cheeks tinged pink somewhere deep under her thick snow leopard fur. She gave up as Peter took her paw in his hoof for the brief walk over to the restaurant entrance.

-

The interior of the restaurant was nice. Each table and booth had their own lighting fixtures hanging down over them, each light itself within a bulb shade that kept its radiance collected just upon the table over which it hung. There were other lights higher up over the spaces between tables, but they were dimmed floodlights embedded in the ceiling. The arrangement left it feeling as there were truly _just enough_ light. There was bright, more abundant light where it needed to be, but it didn’t permeate everywhere. It was meant as an attempt to provide an equally comfortable atmosphere to both daytime and nocturnal mammals. Though, when truly done right as it was here, Fabienne also simply just found it relaxing.

They were taken to a booth for their seating, as most couples apparently were. The booths were raised a little bit up off the floor level, so you had to step up into them. And each was also separated from the others on either side of it by dividing walls, regardless of how thin they may have been. It was the perfect combination of both privacy and openness, as obviously from the front where one stepped in the booths were still open to see out into the rest of the restaurant. And perhaps the best of all, despite it being in Sahara Square the mostly-camel staff evidently kept the restaurant cooled to room temperature. Fabienne knew camels had a wider than normal range of temperature tolerance, so doing so didn’t bother them. But, it was still a generous consideration being willing to endure the extra cost on the restaurant’s electric bill for the sake of their patrons’ comfort.

Their ordering did not take long. If they offered red-replica meatballs with their spaghetti dish, then there was only one thing Fabienne was getting. Peter requested what he normally would in a pasta-centric restaurant: lasagna with birch twig buds and spruce leaves.

The waiter promised them each their food and left them each with a glass of water before returning to the kitchen to deposit the orders.

Fabienne lowered her head to take a straw sip from her water, whilst Peter smiled at her from across the short table.

“It’s all more than you were expecting of it?” He asked.

She parted from the straw to answer with her own question, though it was more of an acknowledging statement than anything. “You knew?” 

Peter’s eyes angled up and away for a second as he allowed his face to give away his guilt, if it could be called such. “I asked Adrian about it a few times between now and then.” He answered, referring back to when their editor had first suggested the place to them as a harassment-free dining locale. “I should be the one surprised by you, you’re supposed to be the one who wants everything planned and known ahead of time.”

She rolled her eyes as a means of deflecting from her embarrassment, even though she knew her husband could see it anyways. “Not everything _all_ the time.” She insisted.

Peter met her response with a raised eyebrow and an amused, disbelieving grin.

She sighed once she inevitably gave up. “I know.” She said, turning away to look out from their booth at the rest of the restaurant interior. “I think some of my laundry folds were even off-line by a degree on Wednesday. I’ve still been having my mind wander elsewhere.”

Peter’s eyebrow lowered back to its normal level, and his grin reverted back into a more gentle smile. “I know.” He said, reaching out and laying a front hoof on her side of their table.

Fabienne clasped the hoof with her paw and held on to it. “You were right again.” She said, looking down at her water glass. “Things _have_ gotten better faster than I thought.”

It was true, what she said, or rather what her husband had said the week before. Over the past week everything had begun to quickly race back towards a pre-nighthowler normal, now that any and every mammal knew that it was the virulent blue flowers and their second former mayor that had been responsible for the prior three months of fear. Things hadn’t immediately seemed so well a week ago, when it had only been a few days since the fall of Bellwether’s scheme. But whether it had taken the extra week for everyone to learn the truth, or just for it to sink in, Zootopia was definitely on the way back to its more peaceful state now. The size of the rallies, the number of public incidents, and even just the tangible level of tension in the air had all dropped by more than half, at least. Peter was right, he always was. It would probably take only until a full month had passed before everything died away.

“I want to go back to that aardvark’s place the next time we go out.” She said when she finally let go of his hoof. 

“Are you sure?” Peter asked, given his wife was speaking of the restaurant where their own incident with an angry, _opinionated_ animal had taken place two weeks prior.

“Peter that owner was almost in tears.” She answered. “And I’m going to leave him or his staff blaming themselves forever.” The aardvark had indeed begun to panic and fret that night. Even though he had thrown the mammal in question out, what had clearly been a disheartening number of diners had still gotten up and left, Peter and Fabienne being the first. She felt sunken over what had happened to the restaurant owner now, but at the time she’d had to leave. She simply couldn’t continue to eat in peace after the incident itself, and with everyone’s eyes on her and her husband afterward. Now she did want to go back, however, if anything just to assure the poor aardvark that they didn’t bear anything against him over what someone else had done.

“Wherever you want, dear.” Peter promised.

She couldn’t help but smile warmheartedly at his eternally-predictable demeanor towards her. “You should consider having your own desires sometime.”

A lone chuckle, or something closer to a snort escaped him, and he smiled back. “I’ll think about it.”

***

Their food eventually came, and Fabienne’s excitement built. It was kept contained by her naturally-cooled snow leopard exterior of course, but it was undeniably there. As their waiter left them alone again, she pressed her fork down into the dish and twirled some spaghetti around it while Peter sliced out a bite of his lasagna. He never took his eyes off her, however, even whilst she was only consuming the spaghetti portion of her order. But, eventually the moment came, and she lifted up one of the red-replica meatballs with her fork. And when she had finally placed it within her jaws and began to chew, her eyes shut themselves.

The rare food item was indeed exactly what it was meant to be.

“ _That_ perfect?” Peter asked.

“Peter,” she spoke after she’d finished enjoying the first of several that came with the plate, “you’re doing too much.”

“Never.” He gave the same answer he always gave.

She shook her head, smile and all, for at that point it was all she could do. As she took up another fork of her meal, Fabienne glanced around at the rest of the interior she could see from their view. The restaurant was far from full, but there were still a fair number of other diners seated about the place to be seen. She saw five booths occupied out of perhaps a dozen, along with two of the four long tables in their particular section of the restaurant. The table nearest to them drew her attention more so than the others once she let her eyes pass over it. It was the clothing of those seated there that caused her eyes to stop. The mammals sitting at the table were wearing the same old blotchy, woodland camo uniforms as the Final Alliance security the station had contracted. And, the chance of that being a mere coincidence was erased completely when she saw that two of the four mammals at the table were in fact the pair wolves that stood on guard inside the ZNN station entrance at night each time she and Peter left.

Fabienne wasn’t sure what her thought process should’ve been at first, but inevitably her unsureness gave way to a suspicion. 

“Peter,” she called for her husband’s attention, and tried to make sure she only signaled the table’s direction with her eyes, “did Tyler know we were coming here tonight?” She posed the question her own suspicion was asking, mentioning their studio director by name.

Everyone at the station knew what had happened to them two weeks ago, and the growing level of discomfort she’d been enduring during the couple months leading up to that point. Since it was their director who had the ability to, and had made the decision to contract additional security for the station building itself while tension in the city had been rising, it would have to be him who requested the security firm to attend to _other details_. The fact that four mammals from Final Alliance just happened to be dining in the same restaurant as her and her husband, on the same night and at a table in the same area seemed just a bit too much. And, given how much Tyler cared about the entire studio crew, she didn’t really think it beyond him to have possibly requested something of the sort.

“I didn’t tell anyone.” Peter said. “I asked Adrian about everything, but I never said we were coming on any specific night.”

Well . . . maybe her suspicion was a bit jumpy. She wouldn’t doubt Tyler to request the personnel from the security firm _happen_ to be there during the hour or two she and Peter would. But without actually knowing when that would ever be, he would have to be contracting them to have some of their members sit in the restaurant all day every day and night just in case she and Peter showed up. _That_ level of expense she suspected he, or rather ZNN itself couldn’t so easily write off.

“A lynx and a Jackal?” Peter suddenly asked, keeping his voice hushed.

Fabienne glanced back over the table in question. While her eyes before had only honed in on the pair of wolves, because she knew them so easily from seeing them almost every night, now she actually looked at the other two mammals seated at the table with those two. There was a male lynx, with that kind of grey-beige fur that just crossed one’s eyes into registering as a form of green. And then beside him, quite often rubbing her cheek against either his own or his shoulder, was a female jackal.

The far half of Fabienne’s thick tail began to lift and gently flop back down on the booth seat. It wasn’t rare to see other inter-species couples, though it certainly was to see predator-prey couples, but simply other inter-species couples were common enough that one could spot a few if scanning the city crowd long enough on any given day. But for Fabienne, actually noticing another still brought about a bit of heart lift.

Peter spoke again once his wife had turned back to their own table. “I think our friends,” he referred to the wolf pair they were used to seeing each night, “are out with their friends. And I think their friends are here because Adrian’s family has a reputation for this place.” He ended with his own eyes looking away and darting from one angle to the next, signaling for her to take another look around.

What she found, or rather what she’d missed the first time she had glanced around, was more than a bit of a surprise. In one booth off to the right there was a pair of ZPD officers, a male wolf and a female tiger. Fabi recognized them, though she couldn’t recall their names at first. Her eyes, once meant for focusing in on potential prey across the great distances of high, snowy mountains, honed in on the one namebadge that was visible: Wolford. Fangmeyer was the other then, she remembered. They were partnered ZPD officers who’d inevitably drifted their way into becoming a couple.

When her eyes moved on to the officers’ neighboring booth she saw an unusual pair: a fox and a rabbit. Before her eyes even registered their details, the question sprung to mind of whether it was _that_ fox and rabbit; Officer Hopps and the fox who had aided her in dismantling Bellwether’s plot. But, she realized soon enough that the rabbit she saw was male, and it was the fox sitting across form him who was the female of the pair. And, her coat was a whiter beige rather than any kind of orange or red.

Across from that pair, in a booth on the opposite wall, was what she had to assume was another couple. There was a male leopard, with paler fur and red-brown spots, and a lioness in a ZPD uniform with a messy tuft of hair between her ears, and distinguishable violet eyes.

“Is that Captain Vitani?” Fabienne asked Peter, keeping her own voice hushed despite the surprise. It wasn’t really a question, especially once she identified the twin gold bar insignia on the arm of her uniform. Captain Vitani was in charge of promotional review for ZPD officers, and thusly also ended up in attendance at many of the small ceremonies sometimes held for promotions, to which usually a couple of journalists and cameras were invited. So, she had become a somewhat more-known name to mammals in the news industry.

“I didn’t even know she was married.” Peter remarked, returning to his own dish.

_That_ shocked Fabienne. 

Captain Vitani had never come across as a _“happily married”_ type of mammal. But when Fabi glanced back over at the lioness again, she actually did notice the police captain looked far more . . . warm, and at peace than she could ever recall seeing her. And when her eyes focused in detail across the distance, sure enough, there was a ring on the captain’s left paw.

Well, this was definitely a night of pleasant oddities.

“Hey,” a higher-pitched voice suddenly spoke up close to them, “Fabi and Peter!” The voice came from a ferret who had just hopped up into a seat at the nearer end of the table their security firm had taken.

When they both re-examined the sight, Fabienne and Peter saw that additional animals had joined the original four at the table. Apart from the small ferret, there was now also another wolf with a flat-topped snout, and a muscular, burly ram.

Fabienne relaxed, in a way. The growing number at least implied it to far more likely be something of a coworkers’ night out. Their director certainly wasn’t paying to have _that_ many security personnel perpetually lurking in a restaurant on the mere chance she and Peter might dine out there.

The ferret was looking from one of them to the other, taking in their setting and then apparently noticing their wedding rings. “I knew it!” He exclaimed.

“Volume.” A stern, flat-toned warning came from the male Lynx at the far end of the table.

The ferret flinched, but then immediately resumed his burst of excitement in the form of a raised whisper. “I knew you two were a thing!” He declared, holding his clenched paws close together up in front of his chest.

Although Fabienne felt the prickling sensation of embarrassment rolling up inside her torso, she still had to share an amused look with her husband. It wasn’t the first time they’d witnessed an _“excited viewer”_ realization, but they were still always surprised at just how gleeful mammals were at the revelation that the two of them were married. Granted, as the three months between Lionheart and Bellwether’s arrests had proven, not every reaction was a pleasant one. But given how giddy the little camo-wearing ferret appeared, this might well have been the most thrilled she had ever seen anyone.

“Leave them alone, Ralph.” The female wolf instructed the ferret.

Fabienne shared another glance with Peter. She could tell he was clearly leaving it to her to decide. On any other night, she would have wanted a return to privacy. But after all that had happened, right now she found herself in a much better, more open mood. She resumed the amused smiled her and Peter had shared just a moment before, and that was enough of a signal for him to read.

“I think it’s a little late for that.” Peter said back to the wolf, making sure to smile himself as he did.

“Are you sure?” The wolf asked, her face displaying a reserved concern. “We recognized you two when you came in as well, but we were going to remain quiet. Ralph is the one who has issues with self-control.”

“It’s alright.” Fabienne assured them, looking over to the now-worried ferret. “The positive reaction is nice to have after the more recent ones we’ve had.”

The ferret’s face lit back up, though it was the wolf sitting one seat past him that spoke up next.

“You two’ve been getting trouble?” The second male wolf asked.

“A few times.” Fabienne remarked.

“Incidents trying to dine in public.” Peter semi-clarified.

“You can hop over here if you want.” The ram was the one who spoke up this time, without taking his eyes off the food in front of him. “Ain’t nothin gonna be happening to anyone at this table.” He calmly declared.

The two of them shared another exchange of pondering looks, with the main portion of answer-waiting coming on Peter’s part. Fabienne let a moment pass in contemplation, before the rising mood inevitably swayed her in favor. She motioned her head towards the security group’s table, and Peter followed her along as she took up her plate and glass and moved them over. They each took one of the two seats at the nearer end of the table, becoming the only non-camo members of the mixed-mammal ensemble.

“Well,” the female wolf said once they’d joined, “I’ll suspect we’re going to take your bill for you then.” She glanced down the table towards the lynx, who merely raised the fingers of one paw off the table in response without removing his eyes from the screen of the large work tablet in front of him.

The female Jackal sitting next to him looked over to the wolf with a cheery, teeth-revealing smile and gave a quick series of nods.

“That’s . . . unnecessary.” Fabienne said.

“No,” the wolf responded, “what’s happened over the last few months was unnecessary.” 

A few seconds of silence followed, with everyone taking another bite of their own meals.

“Thankyou.” Peter said to the same wolf, after finishing another lasagna piece. “It’s been nice for us every night seeing you and your husband in the entryway.”

Both the female wolf and the male wolf next to her paused to look at the moose, as did the snow leopard sitting beside him.

“Name patches or rings?” She asked with a surprised smile.

“Both.” Peter answered.

At the mentioning of them, and somewhat embarrassed at the idea of a detail she had missed the many times they had passed by and even briefly spoken to the two of them, Fabienne’s eyes immediately went to the front of their uniforms. Above one of the upper chest pockets on each was a black-lettering name patch. Both, she now saw, were the same last name of _“Snowpack”_. She assumed Peter must have just noticed the rings himself before he spoke, primarily because she doubted they wore them on the job.

“I’m Sarah.” The female wolf somewhat formally introduced herself, just beginning to let the kind-but-focused front they were used to seeing slip. “He’s my husband, Tobias.” She said of the male wolf next to her.

Tobias gave them a shy, or perhaps just a reserved smile, but didn’t speak.

“Ralph may as well have introduced himself already.” Sarah went on, indicating them towards the ferret seated across form her. “He’s our communications mammal and social media manager.”

The ferret was beaming by the time Peter and Fabi looked over to him, and he even waved for a second despite being right in front of them.

“He’s a fan.” Sarah stated the obvious before moving on to the wolf next to the ferret, across from her husband. “That’s Howard over there, Howard the Snoutard.” She paused as the wolf in question gave her begrudging look before patting his flat-topped muzzle. “We just took him in two months back, after Pack Shield collapsed.”

“Saw they got to wear old military stuff,” Howard offered a further explanation, “figured I was missing out.”

“The uniforms certainly stand out.” Peter agreed.

“Boss wanted something memorable.” Ralph explained. “Plus he really loved the stuff from the old militaries anyway.”

“It definitely works.” Fabienne agreed as well. “Safety and that camouflage pattern are pretty synonymous at the station now.”

A pair of the lynx’s fingers lifted up from the table briefly at the far end of the table, at which the jackal beside him looked over to Fabienne with a bright smile.

Sarah resumed again, now motioning her head towards the ram. “The muscle mountain next to my husband is Dwayne.”

The ram raised a hoof via a massive bicep flex.

“And the odd couple down there are our helicopter pilot pair, Max and Jamie.” Sarah finished the table’s lineup. “And Max is also the boss.” She said of the lynx.

“Yeah,” Dwayne remarked with a chuckle, “and Jamie’s also a _pilot-of-circumstance_.” 

Most them snickered at the remark, while the jackal herself cast a brief set of narrowed eyes at the ram, though without a scowl to match them however.

“I’m afraid we’re unfamiliar with the term.” Fabienne said.

“It’s not a real term.” Howard, the apparent _new guy_ said. “Apparently they told me the only reason Jamie learned how to fly helos was so she could be the copilot any time Max went up.”

“So he couldn’t get away.” Dwayne clarified the actual reality, to which everyone snickered again.

“He wasn’t trying to _get away_.” Sarah tried to clarify for them even further. “He just . . .”

“Wasn’t interested?” Peter tried to aid the sentence’s ending.

“No,” Sarah said, eyes and head both lifting upward into recollection of the past, “it’s not really that. At the time he was just . . .”

“Dead.” Tobias finally spoke, providing the word his wife couldn’t find.

“Yeah.” Dwayne agreed.

“But she was persistent?” Fabienne couldn’t help herself from being interested now.

The Final Alliance members kept their jaws closed, attempting to stifle a round of laughter. Only Howard seemed to lack the degree of response the others did, something to which Fabienne attributed to his not having been present during the time period in question.

“Female jackals are notably possessive.” Sarah told them, glancing briefly down the table at Jamie. “Loving and devoted, for sure, but possessive and a bit narrow-sighted in the beginning.” 

“Like the ring request?” Dwayne brought up another event, to the snickering of everyone else.

“So,” Ralph the ferret suddenly spoke up again, rubbing his paws together as he began to tell the story, “before they were a thing, being a jackal and all she was _really_ . . . uh, declarative about the fact that she liked him. So this one time four or five years ago she’s walking next to him while he’s flippin and lookin through contract requests n stuff, and she just straight up asks him where’s her ring?” The ferret had to pause for a second to allow the pent-up laughter to escape. “And he doesn’t even look up from the papers n just keeps walkin n says—” At the end of his words, Ralph looked over to Tobias.

The quiet wolf took the cue, sitting upright and preparing a flat, uncaring face.

Even the lynx himself looked up to observe the coming imitation.

“It does not, and will never exist.” Tobias replicated the words his boss once spoken, and the toneless voice with which he’d said them.

The entire table burst out laughing, even Howard being compelled to join. In fact, Fabienne and Peter found themselves both nearly on the verge of it. They had no personal attachment to the story, but the truly jovial laughter of the security mammals was a rather potent contagion.

Fabienne and Peter both looked to each other, sharing the same near-laughing grin. 

Fabienne spoke. “I feel like that’s a story that gives away its own ending.”

Then, Peter laughed, and so did she.

The Moose then looked down the table and asked, “So, _does it_ now exist?”

Jamie the jackal immediately grabbed the lynx’s left paw with her own, holding both ring-bearing left paws beside her all-but-shimmering face.

The lynx, for his part, initially appeared jolted that his forearm had been jerked away from its place. But after a few seconds and realizing what was actually happening, he returned his attention to the e-forms on his screen. Even with his head back to looking nearly down though, the smile that crept over his formerly expressionless face was still visible.

“Sorry if we’re going off with our own stories.” Tobias tentatively said to the moose and snow leopard, both of whom cast each other quick, shocked glances.

“No, by all means.” Peter responded.

Fabienne followed. “These feel like such warmer stories than what we’ve become used to telling lately.”

“Then why don’t you go back _before_ recently?” Sarah proposed. “How did you two drift together?” She asked, for a start.

Peter instantly began choking on his food, betrayed by the laughs he would have otherwise made. While he recovered, Fabienne let out a sigh of the rare, amused kind. Amused both at the memory the question had recalled, and of course at Peter’s current, albeit resolving situation.

“Well . . .” She began.

And the entire blended group carried on for a length of time at the table, sharing warmer stories.


End file.
